


Over

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Break up sex, Feels, Loving Each Other But Breaking Up Anyway, M/M, Mutual Break Up, Not A Happy Ending, angsty sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: "So that's it?" he managed to choke out, his lungs too devoid of oxygen to propel the words more than a few feet in front of him. "We're over?"





	Over

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here I go trying an unhappy ending again. Go me! Maybe this time I won't have a breakdown the next day and try and fix it, haha. Damn you angsty bingo square!
> 
> This is for MCU Bingo square "Break Up Sex" and it's pretty much what it says on the tin. Also for Stony bingo square "Last Times/Farewells."

Silence hung heavy in the room, echoing around, bouncing off the walls to press painfully on Tony's ears. He tipped his chin up, dragging his eyes from the carpet to fix on Steve's face. "So that's it?" he managed to choke out, his lungs too devoid of oxygen to propel the words more than a few feet in front of him. "We're over?"

But Steve caught them. He shifted on the couch, nodded.

"I love you." Tony's voice had never felt so small.

Steve winced with his whole body, but he nodded again, slower this time. "I love you, too." He wouldn't meet Tony's eyes. "But -"

Tony stopped him with a hand on his knee. "We don't have to go over it again. I - I get it. You're right. I just - I wish you weren't." They'd both seen it coming, for a while now. And Tony couldn't help hating himself for not being strong enough to be the one to put it into words, for forcing Steve to take that on himself.

"Me too." Steve finally looked up. "I'm so sorry, Tony."

He was beautiful and broken and hurting. And Tony loved him so much he didn't know what else to do. He cupped Steve's jaw with his hand and leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. 

"Tony -" Steve whispered into the kiss, then broke off, tipping backwards on the couch and drawing Tony down on top of him. Tony broke away from Steve's lips, kissed over each of his closed eyes, then drew a path down his cheek to the soft patch of skin behind his ear. "Tony," Steve repeated but it was a moan this time.

Tony gripped Steve's sides like a lifeline, like if he let him go he'd sink right down through the cushions and disappear forever. Steve gave into his hold easily, muscle memory slotting him perfectly into the curves of Tony's body. 

"Tony." It was more serious this time. Tony stilled, but he didn't move away from where he had his lips pressed to the ridge of Steve's collarbone. "I can't - This can't be -"

Tony breathed out a pained sigh against Steve's skin. "I'm not trying to change your mind." His hands clenched, gripping handfuls of Steve's shirt. "I'm really not, I swear. I just -" Tony broke off as prickling heat threatened the back of his eyes. He burrowed his face in deeper and breathed in, filling himself with Steve's scent. He'd never get this again, never get to be here freely, never wake to this warmth around him again. _ "Please,"  _ was all he could manage in the end.

Steve wrapped around him, tugging him close and holding him tight. He peppered kisses across the top of Tony's head, and Tony squeezed his eyes closed and wished, fervently, that he could stay in this moment forever.

But time marched on, and Steve eventually eased him back. He hooked a finger under Tony's chin and lifted until their gazes met. "Stay tonight," Steve said softly. "We can have breakfast tomorrow, and then…"

"And then we're just friends," Tony spat, and Steve winced again. Tony shook his head, wishing he could take it back. "I'm sorry. I do, I want that. I want to be friends. I just - I might need some time."

"Me too." He hugged Tony close again. "Me too… it's okay if you don't want to stay tonight. I just hoped - you know."

"One last hurrah?" Tony snorted. He buried his face in Steve's shirt again.

"One last memory," Steve said softly, and Tony felt the last little thread that was holding his heart together snap. He crawled back up until their mouths met, and he devoured Steve with a kiss, pouring in everything that was cracking and burning and raging inside of him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair in the slightest, and they both knew it, and it didn't matter. They were over.

"One last memory," Tony echoed, and he started working his way down the buttons of Steve's shirt. Steve let his arms fall to the side, giving Tony access to strip him of his clothes. When he sat up to let Tony push the shirt off his shoulders, he hooked his hands under Tony's thighs and stood, lifting him up. Tony hooked his arms around Steve's neck and pressed their foreheads together, safe in Steve's hold, knowing he would never drop him.

At least not until tomorrow morning.

They tumbled onto the bed, Tony straddling Steve's hips. He pressed his palms over Steve's chest then slid them down to his waistband. Steve lifted his hips and let Tony wiggle his pants down, taking his boxers with them. 

"Remember that time you got caught in your pants and fell off the bed?" Tony asked with a smile. 

It was a moment, a tense moment, before Steve nodded and smiled back. "I hit my head really hard on the bedside table. It hurt like a bitch."

Tony paused where he was unbuckling his own pants. "Really? You said you were fine."

Steve shrugged, sporting that half-cocky smirk, half-self-deprecating smile. "I didn't want you to stop to get me an ice pack."

Tony shook his head and left his pants hanging open to crawl up and kiss Steve silly. "Was sex with me _ seriously  _ more important than a potential concussion?"

"Yes." And just like that the switch flipped back, reality writhing in Tony's stomach, threatening to crawl up his throat, rough and ragged. 

"Steve," he whispered into the dip of his throat, "make love to me?"

Steve rolled them over until he was cradled between Tony's thighs, Tony's knees hooked over Steve's hips. He worked Tony free of his shirt then found every inch of his chest with his mouth, kissing, licking, nipping.

Tony catalogued every touch, every tiny, breathless sound, every brush of Steve's lips. He filed them away. This might be lost, but it wouldn't be forgotten. He traced the curve of Steve's ear, ruffled his fingertips along the prickly hairs at the nape of his neck, and breathed in the scent of sweat and sex that already filled the room. 

Steve worked Tony out of his clothes carefully, torturously slowly, tasting and petting Tony's skin as he revealed it. This was usually when Tony started begging him to go faster, but this time, he couldn't bear to. Steve brushed his lips across the surface of the arc reactor, down Tony's ribs, and over the dark scar that marred Tony's stomach.

Tony's cock ached to be free, and, as if Steve could read his mind, he moved on to his pants, popping the button open and tugging them down. Steve's fingers brushed over Tony's hips and thighs as he worked him out of his pants and boxers, leaving a shudder in their wake. Tony was torn; he wanted every inch of Steve pressed against him, from head to foot, as if each atom in him could find its match in Steve and memorize it. But Steve between his legs was beautiful torture in another way, a way that made his cock jump against his belly, leaking precome.

"Steve," Tony breathed, fingers finding his hair again. He wanted to tug, pull, guide, as well stroke, pet, soothe. There was too much input, too many possibilities. Why couldn't this last time be everything at once?  _ "Steve,"  _ he whined this time, and Steve didn't hesitate take Tony's cock between his lips and swallow him down. "Shit!"

Steve's mouth was hot and wet and slick, and he knew Tony so well. His tongue rolled around the head of Tony's cock, firm but smooth, and Steve swallowed on every downstroke, taking Tony as deep down his throat as he could. Tony tried to pretend there wasn't anything different about this time, that it was just him and Steve, enjoying an evening together, but heat sprung up against the back of his eyes, and he couldn't let go of the fact that this was it. 

Steve picked up the pace, and his hands slid under Tony's thighs, pushing his legs apart, until they cupped his ass. One finger found Tony's hole and teased the rim, dry save for the spit that dribbled down Steve's chin onto his hands. 

Tony leaned over, one hand staying firm on the back of Steve's head so he wouldn't stop, and he rummaged around in Steve's bedside drawer until he found their lube. It was stupid as shit to get sentimental over lube, but… they'd put this sizable dent in it. Tony had ordered it, one for his room and one for Steve's. And he always knew exactly where it would be.

Except time would pass, and Steve would move on, and move his things, and Tony wouldn't know this space anymore, wouldn't be able to slide through Steve's apartment in the dark, nothing more than his memories of well-trodden paths to the bathroom or the front door to guide him. How many times had he slipped out, early in the morning, to make it to an SI meeting on time? Or stumbled into the bathroom at the cry of an Avengers alert, finding Steve already at the sink, washing his face? They'd share a toothpastey kiss then go save the world.

But not anymore.

Tony handed Steve the lube, and Steve slicked his fingers, giving the bottle a glance that suggested he was thinking the same exact thing. But neither said anything. Steve went back to sucking Tony off, his slicked fingers teasing at his hole, circling the rim, taking their time. Steve knew, knew that Tony liked to come first, then get fucked, so every thrust sent rivulets of near-overwhelming pleasure vibrating up his body. 

Steve swallowed around Tony's cock again, sucking hard now, bobbing his head fast now, and one finger pressed inside Tony's hole, creating delicious friction. Steve's thumb pressed lightly behind Tony's rapidly-tightening balls while his finger worked in and out, slow but steady, and Steve's lips hit the base of Tony's cock over and over.

He didn't want to come; he wanted to come desperately. 

"Please," he whined, not sure if he was begging Steve to push him over the edge or pull him back from it, but Steve's pace didn't change, maintaining the steady rhythm of his mouth and his finger, the solid pressure of his thumb against Tony's perineum and the gentle squeeze of his hand around the underside of Tony's thigh. 

Tony twisted tight like a wind-up toy, then, as if Steve had somehow released the winder, he started to unravel. With a moan and a jerk of his legs, Tony's orgasm washed over him, a strong wave at first, followed by several smaller ones. He pulsed into Steve's mouth, and Steve swallowed it down, humming with pleasure, and the vibration set Tony off again, whimpering at the over-stimulation but revelling in it too. 

Steve popped off Tony's cock with an obscene noise, then crawled up his body until he covered him, one hand still fingering Tony open. His fingers were urgent now, a second one joining the first, pressing in deep, stretching wide, pumping in and out. Tony was in a haze of aftershocks, and every thrust of Steve's fingers spun him deeper under. He wrapped both arms around Steve's neck and pulled his face to his chest, moaning when Steve attached his mouth to Tony's nipple and sucked hard.

Steve worked Tony open too fast and too slow at the same time, pushing eagerly for more, deeper, wider, but keeping his pace slow, drawing it out. Electricity crackled under Tony's skin, tiny lightning bolts breaking away to shudder up his spine. He was sure that when he looked in the mirror next, his back would be a canvas of ever-spreading, ever-branching Lichtenberg figures. Tiny electric lines marring his skin. Those were the scars Steve left on him, echos of pure pleasure.

Too soon and far, far too late, Steve pulled his fingers free. He stroked lube over his cock, then lined up and pressed inside, in one slow, smooth slide. Tony couldn't stop the litany of curses that fell from his lips as Steve stretched him wide, no amount of prep enough to ready him for the hot press of Steve's cock.

Steve shook, shivered, as he bottomed out, folded over Tony. Tony brought his legs up to wrap lightly around Steve's waist. He sunk into the feeling of  _ safe,  _ hid in it, refused to think about tomorrow when he'd be lost, bereft, and homeless without Steve. 

Steve took both of Tony's hands and pinned them above his head, winding their fingers together and gripping tight. "Fuck, Tony, you feel so good."

"I lo-" Tony cut himself off. He didn't have the right to say that anymore, or, even if he did, it wouldn't be kind to. 

But Steve had heard, and maybe the cut-off words hurt worse. He squeezed his eyes closed as he rocked into Tony and held onto Tony like his hands were the last thing keeping him from falling off a cliff-edge. Tony tipped his chin up, and Steve bent to kiss him, a frantic devouring press of lips. Everything in that moment was Steve. He was all Tony could feel, taste, smell, and he drowned in it, gulping in great lungfuls of him then choking on them when they came at the price of oxygen.

Steve's thrusts grew faster, his breathing changed, groans turned to tight, staccato gasps, and Tony knew it was almost over. He clung to Steve's shoulders, drew him in as tightly, as closely, as he possibly could, as if, maybe, they could merge into one being, and this inevitable, necessary, heart-crushing separation wouldn't have to happen.

But then Steve cursed softly, hips jerking forward a few more times, then stilled. They stayed wrapped around each other for a long time, breathing fast, then shaky - as the realization of what was happening overpowered the effect of the afterglow - then slow again as they managed to tamp it down. Tony traced aimless patterns over Steve's shoulder blades with his fingers. He could feel Steve's thoughts, feelings, matching his own, humming at the pleasure of being close then snapping into jagged shards again at the memory that it would be the last time. 

Steve eventually rolled over, drawing Tony next to him - always conscious of how prolonged weight on the arc reactor made Tony's chest ache - and they lay side by side in silence. Tony reached out and traced along Steve's cheek, swallowing against the rush of pain when Steve fluttered his eyes shut and tipped his face to the side to press a soft kiss to the pad of Tony's finger.

This was the last time he'd touch Steve this intimately. The last time it would be his right to lean in and steal a kiss. He exercised that right now, drawing Steve bodily against him, stroking his hand, palm flat, up Steve's side as if he could memorize him one more time. Then he placed his hand over Steve's heart and eased him back. 

Steve's eyes were wet, but Tony tried to not think about it, for fear his would match soon. "I can't stay til breakfast," Tony choked out around a heavy lump. "I can't." He knew he wouldn't sleep - Steve wouldn't either - they'd lie here side by side, mourning, grieving, and it would make it that much harder to walk away when the sun came up.

"Okay," Steve's hand squeezed Tony's hip too hard, but he didn't ease off this time. Tony wondered if he'd have bruises he wouldn't bear to look at tomorrow morning.

He moved to slip out of bed, and Steve's entire body twitched towards him then stilled. Tony gathered his clothes and pulled them on, wanting to rush and drag it out at the same time. He leaned on the bed on one knee and Steve sat up, meeting him, the sheets pooling in his lap. Which kiss should be their last? This slow, tender one? A passionate, heated one? A chaste peck? Nothing felt right. 

Tony finally pulled away, sucking in breath through his teeth. Nothing. No single kiss could carry that much weight. All he could hope was that the combined love of a hundred, of a thousand, kisses would carry him through this. His eyes burned again. 

"It was a good memory," he managed to get out, and Steve's shoulders shook, but he didn't look away. 

Tony turned and walked to the door. Each atom in his body yearned back towards Steve, pulling him, fighting him, raging to be reunited with its other half. But he walked on.

It was over.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! You can follow me on tumblr at festiveferret.tumblr.com <3


End file.
